The List Goes On!
by She's a Star
Summary: Takes place during CoS. One of the many adventures of Hogwarts' most adored DADA teacher: the one and only Gilderoy Lockhart!


The List Goes On!

by She's a Star

Disclaimer: Gilderoy and all things HP belong to ze wonderful JK Rowling...*sighs wistfully* If only dear Gildy belonged to me. But one day...one day...*gets glazed-off look in eyes*

Dedication: To my delightfully glacial-schnazz Potterettes, Pepsi and Twixette :) They have both written ever-so delightful Gildylicious works of heavenly art, but alas, Twixette has yet to upload hers. But right after you read and review this, my dear readers, you must skeeeedattle over to PepsiAngel's author page and read It's a Hairdresser's Life For Us. If you don't, you're missing out!

~*~

Gilderoy Lockhart (_Professor_ Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile Award, to be precise) was an incredibly kind and generous man. Almost unbelievably kind and generous, really. Perhaps even _insanely_ kind and generous.

No, actually, most definitely not insanely kind and generous. After all, insanity _can_ be considered a negative trait, and Gilderoy Lockhart had not a single one of those. No sirree! He was intelligent, witty, charming...not to mention devilishly good-looking.

Oh, the list went on and on.

He was also remarkably humble and modest, on top of all other things.

But as I, the simply magnifique and very honored narrator of this story (after all, not _everyone_ has the oh-so-awesome privilege of telling a story about Mr. Magical Me himself!), was saying in the first place, Gilderoy was unbelievably kind and generous.

But not insanely.

Anyway, the day on which our story begins was an extremely lucky day for Harry Potter and his fellow second year Gryffindors. Why, you ask?

Well, because they had Defense Against the Dark Arts with the magnificent Gilderoy Lockhart himself! And _double _Defense Against the Dark Arts, no less. Can you get any luckier than that??

I, the simply magnifique and very honored narrator of this story, think not.

Now, on this particular day, Gilderoy's unbelievable amount of kindness and generosity was even _more _unbelievable. Unquestionably, every single student that had the privilege of having him as an educator adored his classes, and Gilderoy decided to give them a bit of a treat. 

_Though,_ Gilderoy thought to himself with a chuckle as he stared at the adoring students, _it really is quite the treat to have double Defense Against the Dark Arts with magical me! Now, now, I really mustn't go about spoiling them! _

But being the unbelievably kind and generous man he was, Gilderoy decided to give his wonderful students the treat anyway. After all, the poor Gryffindors had just come from double Potions with that jealousy-ridden Severus Snape! The potionsmaster had been treating Gilderoy less-than-glowingly since he'd first come to Hogwarts, but the reason behind his cruelty was painfully obvious. He was, of course, jealous of Gilderoy! Though it really was impossible not to be...especially when your hair was that atrocious shade of black, rather than Gilderoy's own shimmering golden locks of lusciousness. Earlier that year, Gilderoy had made the unfortunate move (which, naturally, couldn't qualify as a mistake. Gilderoy, make mistakes? Never!) of offering Severus a bottle of his beloved Sleekeazy's InstaBlonde hair potion. It had been an overwhelmingly generous gesture, no doubt, and yet Severus had reacted in the most cold and bitter of manners! (Jealousy, really, could drive one mad.) Snape's response had been to go do something to his mother that Gilderoy _certainly_ didn't intend on!

But that was all in the past, and now the important thing was to relieve his students of the terrible memories of potions class that was no doubt lingering in their minds.

Naturally, though, he just couldn't spoil them outright! No, no, he would have to make it appear as though it were work, rather than pure and unadulterated fun.

"Now, class," Gilderoy said with a hearty chuckle, "I have no doubt you've just come from a rather tedious Potions lesson, and while being here in the same classroom with Magical Me is no doubt enough to make up for those hours of treachery-"

He was ever-so rudely interrupted by a fit of mad coughing coming from Ronald Weasley's direction. Gilderoy sprang back many feet from where he stood at once--what if this sickness of Weasley's was contagious?? Certainly, a fine and intimidating specimen such as Gilderoy didn't deserve to come down with any common cold!

Luckily, the fit of rogue coughing subsided, and Gilderoy concluded that it had just been the powerful sense of sheer joy of being in his class, being able to stare at the Five time winner of Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile award himself! Gilderoy knew the feeling...after all, getting up and looking at his beautiful self in the mirror each morning gave him the same overpowering adrenaline rush! The joys of being _him_! But naturally, he concealed it much better than Mr. Weasley did.

But, oh, he'd give the boy time.

"-So today, I've decided to give you a simple _and _enjoyable assignment!" 

Another bout of coughing from Mr. Weasley's direction erupted, and Gilderoy shook his head knowingly.

"Now, class," Gilderoy said, flashing his (five-time) award-winning grin with flourish, "What _is _this great assignment, you ask!?"

_Gilderoy, old boy! _he thought affectionately. _Could you truly _be _more brilliant??_

After a dramatic pause throughout which the whole of his class waited with bated breath, Gilderoy announced, "I am asking you, my wonderful students, to write twenty-five great things about _moi_!"

"Moi?" Mr. Weasley repeated, sounding as though he were suppressing laughter. Which, of course, was impossible. It was most likely just that pesky cough again.

"It means 'me' in French," Miss Granger piped up, sounding annoyed.

"I _know_ that," Mr. Weasley responded bitterly, then muttered, "_Know-it-all" _under his breath.

"Now, now, you two!" Gilderoy chided winningly, "Let's all get along! Now, please take out a piece of parchment and a quill, and get to work!"

The entire class, with the exception of Miss Granger, were rather slow at pulling out their materials, but it didn't annoy Gilderoy in the least. (After all, in addition to all his other amazing qualities, he was remarkably patient.) The poor impressionable little things were no doubt overwhelmed! Where, after all, were they to begin when dealing with someone so damn near perfect?

Heck! We might as well face the facts...he _was _perfect!

So it was with a loving smile on his perfectly-featured and practically invisible-pored face as Gilderoy watched his students scribble down his positive attributes on their lists.

Ah, the joy of educating young minds.

~*~

'Hermione Granger

Defense Against the Dark Arts

25 Things List

1. Highly intelligent

2. Incredibly brave

3. Extremely ambitious

4. Very talented at interior designing...'

Gilderoy grinned to himself as he read over Miss Granger's list...the girl had far exceeded his expectations, coming up with 104 of his amazing qualities! Only 382 more and she would have had Gilderoy's full list of wonderful things about himself! 

Humming merrily under his breath, the delightful Professor Lockhart scribbled '100%' across the top of Miss Granger's paper with his favorite purple peacock feather quill, and then lifted the next paper from the stack.

Gilderoy read the heading aloud to himself, happily basking in the sound of his own rich and soothing voice.

"Ron Weasley," he announced to the many portraits of himself that grinned and winked roguishly at him. "Defense Against the Dark Arts...the dumbest bloody assignment of all time?!?!?!"

You know those moments in Muggle films where there's something very romantic or exciting or something along those lines happening, and there's big dramatic music playing in the background? And then, all of a sudden, the character which the film is focusing on gets hit in the head with a shoe or the like, and the music screeeeeeches to a stop?

Well, this was one of those moments if there ever was one.

"Dumbest bloody assignment of all time?!" Gilderoy repeated to himself, aghast. His 38 portraits of himself all gasped in horrified unison. 

He proceeded to read, hands shaking in sheer and absolute terror.

"Gilderoy Lockhart is...1. a git! 2. stuck-up. 3. idiotic....4....." 

However, what 4 was, the world may never know, because in that very moment, Gilderoy collapsed onto the floor in a dead faint. 

And believe me, dear readers, nobody goes crashing to the ground with as much nonchalant grace and effortless skill as Gilderoy Lockhart.

~*~

"Mr. Weasley?" Gilderoy asked gently as soon as he caught a glimpse of Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, and that fame-starved Mr. Potter (a sly one, he was!) heading towards Transfiguration the next morning. 

After attempting to read Mr. Weasley's list the previous night (which had been _twice _the length of Miss Granger's) and crashing to the floor in a dead faint every time so that he'd never gotten past number eleven, Gilderoy had come to the sad but inevitably true conclusion that Mr. Weasley had to be mentally disturbed.

Rolling his eyes, Mr. Weasley made his way slowly and reluctantly over to Gilderoy.

"What?" he asked unenthusiastically.

"Mr. Weasley," Gilderoy said in his most caring tone, putting a reassuring hand on the troubled boy's shoulder, only to have him take many steps backwards (proving his mental disturbance to be even greater). "Ron...come into my office. Let's have a chat, shall we?"

"A...chat?" Mr. Weasley looked rather-dare Gilderoy think it-frightened!

"Yes, yes," Gilderoy said reassuringly. "Now, don't worry, dear boy, I'm only going to help you."

"Help me?" Mr. Weasley repeated weakly. He looked rather green.

Poor thing! He really _was _troubled in the mind. But of course, this made Gilderoy only want to help him more. After all, he was sympathetic and compassionate towards all of God's creatures...even the mentally ill ones who had about as much brilliance put together as Gildy had in the tip of his pinkie finger.

"Don't be shy," Gilderoy said with a friendly grin. "Now, just come into my office!"

And with that, he led Mr. Weasley (the poor boy!) into his office. All the Gilderoy portraits wore matching expressions of utmost sympathy and willingness to help the lost and confused creature as they watched Gilderoy lead his student in and shut the door.

Gilderoy sat down at his desk and grinned lovingly at his favorite photograph of himself before clasping his hands in front of him in a business-like manner.

"Now, Ron," he said kindly, "Are you happy?"

Mr. Weasley looked at him as though he'd sprouted another (but just as amazingly good-looking, of course) head. Clearly the boy was truly insane!

"Do you feel outshone by Mr. Potter?" Gilderoy continued compassionately. "Because really, dear boy, he's not as famous as he thinks he is! A bit big-headed, that one-"

Another round of loud, hacking coughing escaped Mr. Weasley's mouth.

"Have you seen Madame Pomfrey about that cough of yours?" Gilderoy asked, fixing his expression into one of polite concern. 

"It's nothing," Mr. Weasley responded, eyeing Gilderoy testily. 

Naturally, the poor boy felt overwhelmed in this environment! Gilderoy simply _had_ to make him feel more at ease.

"Er...Professor?" Mr. Weasley asked gingerly. "Can I go? I'm missing Transfiguration-"

"Oh, don't worry!" Gilderoy said with a hearty chuckle. "Minerva won't mind a bit...I'll tell her myself!" Pressing his perfectly-manicured index fingers together, he proclaimed, "We're like _this_!"

Immediately an expression of pure revolt contorted Mr. Weasley's face into a terrible frown, and Gilderoy slapped himself mentally. Of _course _he shouldn't have brought up how adored he was by everyone! They _were_ here for Ron, after all.

"Now, Ron," Gilderoy said kindly. "How is your home life?"

"Er...fine," Mr. Weasley said, staring with longing at the door.

"How about your friends at school?" Gilderoy continued, inwardly very pleased with himself. He really _could _be a psychiatrist! "Do you get along with them?"

Mr. Weasley nodded slowly. "Yeeeeah..."

"What about girls?" Gilderoy asked, giving him a roguish wink. "Do the ladies love ya??"

Mr. Weasley's jaw dropped in absolute shock, and he studied Gilderoy as though he were speaking gibberish.

"Why are you asking me all these questions?" Mr. Weasley stammered. 

Gilderoy shook his head. The poor boy truly was troubled, if he had seriously suspected that Gilderoy wouldn't catch on to his mentally unstable antics!

Sighing deeply, the majestic Professor Lockhart reached inside his desk and pulled out the horrible paper that had started it all and handed it wordlessly to Ron.

The young boy stared at it blankly, then looked up at Gilderoy.

"So?"

"So?!" Gilderoy asked skeptically. "SO?? My dear boy, it's clear that you're mentally unstable!"

"Mentally unstable??"

"It's nothing to be ashamed of!" Gilderoy proclaimed, though _he_ would be rather ashamed if it was him. That, of course, was besides the point. "Now, I'm sure Potter and Granger will care about you despite this sickness of the mind-"

"What are you bloody talking about??" Mr. Weasley exclaimed angrily. "I'm not mentally ill!"

Gilderoy shook his head again, chuckling. Denial...that was always the first stage!

"Now, dear boy, it _will_ be all right! I just-"

"You think I'm insane because of that bloody assignment you gave us yesterday??" Mr. Weasley looked positively spitting mad, though Gilderoy was sure it was just anger he'd suppressed at some other cause and was now releasing. After all, it was impossible to be angry at _him_!

"Now, Ron," Gilderoy said serenely, "I'm sure I'll be able to find someone to help you with this--"

"This is insane!" Mr. Weasley proclaimed furiously. "Just give me a piece of parchment and a quill!" 

Gilderoy did so, being so gracious as to ignore the fact that the boy hadn't even said please. After all, Gildy was a very forgiving man.

Breathing very heavily, Weasley scribbled something down, shoved it in Gilderoy's (devilishly good-looking) face, and then turned and rushed out of the room without another word. 

Gilderoy studied the piece of parchment and chuckled cheerfully to himself.

'Gilderoy Lockhart is the best guy in the history of the world! Now just leave me alone!'

"You, Gilderoy my dear boy, are a miracle worker," Gilderoy informed the many winking photographs of himself. "Only you could take a seriously troubled young man and turn him into a boy like any other...perhaps even, dare I say, an extraordinary boy!"

And with that, Gilderoy merrily slid open his desk drawer, removed his list of his amazing traits from it, and scribbled down number 487 in swirly lilac letters. Now in addition to being good-looking, humble, modest, forgiving, witty, intelligent, and charming, among other things, he was a helper of those troubled of mind _and_ a miracle worker!

"Oh," Gilderoy said contentedly, "The list goes on."

The 38 portraits of himself nodded in sincere agreement.

Ahh...the joy of being Gilderoy.

FIN


End file.
